The Capture of Shamus Stormcrow
The Capture of Shamus Stormcrow “All the pawns are in place…” Botard steepled his fingers and leaned back in his decadent new leather chair. The office was much brighter these days. Above ground even, a hell of a step up. There was a book shelf to the south corner of the room, and light shone through the old stone window, illuminating a collection of decaying and eldritch tomes. Botard had only read a few of them himself, but he prided himself on having collected them, and he was certain that they made his guests respect him more just by existing. “Wow, look at this handsome cult leader with his collection of sorcerous books! I’d better suck up to him or he’ll definitely curse me.”, they would think. Then they would see the neatly organized stacks of records and correspondences filed next to his desk, and they would bask quietly in awe of his excellent organizational skills as he addressed them. Engrad stood before him now, also looking brighter. His previously thick and tangled blonde hair had been combed back, and his beard was now trimmed to a manageable length. Proper black leather armor now embraced his body, and the bleeding eye of the Vix was emblazoned upon his chest. Cataclysm hung from his back, the massive blade a constant reminder of the man’s true underlying savagery. “And then I’m to head to Gildor? To kill all the men who do not follow Tigahn?” His hand moved to their handle of his greatsword, and a cruel smile crept across his face. He had not seen true battle in far too long. “Well go easy on Darshia, and his men. Illiv has yet to confirm the divinity of Lydia, and he has a sort of soft spot for the mysticism that a man like Darshia represents.” Engrad nodded and released his grip upon Cataclysm. He drew a small knife from his belt. “Right. Going easy.” Everyone in the room laughed, even though no one, including Engrad himself, knew to what extent the comment was actually a joke. Botard and Engrad had developed a very strange relationship where neither of them could ever possibly tell when the other one was speaking seriously, and both of them constantly acted as though the other was joking, meanwhile assuming deep inside that the other man was wholly severe in what they said. Botard stood up then. “Very well, then the matter is settled and we are ready to begin moving. You take a squad of blades to Gildor, and I’ll take Dudard and a few others to enact Murdermurder with Vovk. Excellent. Time to pack.” Engrad nodded, bowed, and began to file out through the door. Botard followed suit. Dudard stood shivering in his corset and stockings, unsure of what life choices exactly had lead him to this moment. After a brief moment of thinking, he sprinted daintily after Botard, calling out “Wait! Botard, in the name of Unquala herself, this is a horrible plan!” His prayer went unheard. Shamus Stormcrow literally spat his high alcohol-content Oden made whiskey across the room when he heard that Vovk, Lord of Whores, was having a Shamus Stormcrow lookalike contest, where the winner would be given free visitations to Pleasure Island for the remainder of their life. “And I wasn’t invited!?” Fleischwolf calmly ordered a grunt to grab a towel as he calmly explained that it would likely ruin the contest to have the man people are trying to impersonate appear. As his words fell upon deaf ears, Shamus stood up, took a fast swig of his whiskey, and wrapped his arm around Fleischwolf’s shoulder. “Fleischwolf, why are you talking when we need to be riding Vovk’s pleasure boat in only three weeks’ time?” Fleischwolf sighed. “Ok, look Shamus, I understand that this is important to you, and I’d really like to join you…and I mean, really.” Brief thoughts of the contrast between wading through an ocean of beautiful women on a pleasure boat and besieging Leva Audium in a three-way civil war drifted through his mind like a red hot fork through a hive of bees. He looked Shamus in the eyes “''REALLY, I’d like to join you, but you know we have to kick the fuck out of Nashuss at Leva Audium. We need to be preparing for that. Why don’t you take Otrov as a bodyguard while the rest of us go out and storm the castle?” Shamus spun around and threw up his hands in fervor “Fleischwolf I swear you’re a fucking hero! This is why you’re my man, man! I swear I’ll treat you to whatever the fuck you want when you get back from Gildor, you beautiful martyr, you!” he briefly shook Fleischwolf by the shoulders (a sign of affection for the guild leader) and, cackling, he burst through the doors of his office bellowing for Otrov. A week later, Vovk, lord of whores was lying prone in the belly of the ''Captain’s Choice, being hand fed the plumpest, juiciest Arnish grapes that money could buy by the plumpest, juiciest of scantily clad women that money could buy. Shirtless under a thick fur coat, he lay with his hands behind his head and angrily pondered how much he despised Shamus Stormcrow. Maybe he’d sacrifice one of his nubile slave boys to Unquala tonight in the name of revelry. He was really enjoying this new religion of his, and the thought of all the potential power he could harvest from it put a smile upon his face. Botard was unimpressed by the man. He was also incredibly uncomfortable, surrounded by sweating, dirty bodies that oozed from all manner of places. The stains on the wood of this ship alone gave him heart palpitations every time he gazed upon the blotchy brown wood. Three times now he had attempted to stop the woman with the long brown curls from sucking on various parts of his body and he had finally resigned himself to his fate as she massaged his feet with her tongue. Dudard stood behind him, wearing an absurd amount of makeup, a thick black wig, and leather lingerie. At least he seemed equally, if not more, uncomfortable. The looks of despair on his face as beautiful women passed him by without a second glace was the highlight of Botard’s journey to the Choice. Botard was just slightly suspicious of how little his brother had protested being placed in his current role, and he considered that as he made his small talk with Vovk, until a ruckus from above came crashing down. Vovk leapt to his feet, and slung a large ax across his back, whores falling, cawing and fluttering from his great body like birds perched upon a statue that had suddenly exploded into life. “WHERE’S VOVK! VOVK, YOU SCOUNDREL, ARE YOU HIDING DOWN HERE?” A red haired maelstrom of a man came crashing down the stairs, a huge ax slung upon his back, and Vovk stood his ground, holding his arms out and cackling “AND JUST WHO DO WE HAVE HERE?! SOME SORT OF IMPOSTER?” The man who Botard presumed to be the real ''Shamus Stormcrow adopted a similar pose and began to shout “''WHAT! IIIIIII ''AM THE REAL SHAMUS STORMCROW!” Dudard called out from behind a wall of smoke “What! But the ''real Shamus Stormcrow wears strange metal wires upon his face!” and upon seeing that all the attention in the room had briefly been diverted to him, he continued “and I heard that his battle cry can cause seasoned warriors to beg for mercy!” Immediately a series of different wailing battle-cries erupted from the multitude of men all currently dressed as Shamus Stormcrow. Shamus himself was shouting about bullshit and nonsense, as he fumbled at his side for a strange wire and glass contraption that he put upon his face. Vovk, already wearing a similar device that he had found on a man he killed the week previously, grinned like a wolf before shouting “THE FIRST MAN TO BEG FOR MERCY MAY DRINK FREELY THE REST OF THE NIGHT!” and Botard watched smiling as half a host of seasoned warriors begged for mercy. Fuck, I’ll have to remember that one. That was really clever. ''He thought to himself, reworking his previous conception of the pirate lord. Shamus himself closed the distance between Vovk and embraced him in a massive hug. As he did so he called out “Seasoned warriors, eh? Well I don’t know about that!” Vovk returned the embrace, laughing. “Maybe not! I’ll have to say, we never expected the actual Shamus Stormcrow to crash our little party here! Hah!” Botard watched as Vovk gave a withering gaze to the guard at the door who had allowed Stormcrow to enter with his ax, and who was now allowing a massive glaive-wielding bodyguard to pass as well. Vovk bellowed out to the assembly before him “Well I guess we have a winner! This calls for drinks! Come, let’s set some records my boys!” “Now we’re talking my language!” Said Stormcrow, as his gaze shot around the room, lingering hungrily upon every woman who it fell upon. Drinks were placed in his hands before he could react by a young slave, and the night began. Botard took his que to quietly leave the room, taking the woman who had until now been sucking on his toes with him to avoid suspicion, and casually left. Vovk gave the nod to his man tending the bar, and clapped Shamus on the shoulder “I’m going to find some women worthy of the Storm Crow himself, try not to burn the place down well I’m gone!” He gave quick glances towards the bodyguard who had been let into his quarters, assessing the threat that the man might possess. As he walked past his own guard at the door, who leaned now upon a railing, a large mug in his hand, he clapped him hard on the shoulder and pulled him in close “What’s your name, my man? Daren, was that it?” The guard laughed and took a drink “Darek, Lord!” Vovk gave a predatory grin as he pulled the man closer and said “Darek, my friend, you just saved one of my slave’s lives, did you know that!” He shouted to the bartender “See that Derek here is given all he desires, he just saved another man’s life!” He left laughing at the other man’s confusion and walked to one of the other layers of the ship. He chewed on the thought of how he would kill Derek, savoring it as he had each other sacrifice the last six nights, drop by bloody drop. A small bell rang, unheard to all but those who sought its noise in the din of the First Brothel. Vovk rose, and stretched, apologizing to the ladies he had previously been pleasuring. He explained that he had business to attend to, and strolled down one of the many corridors of this layer of the ''Captain’s Choice. As he walked past a giggling group of girls, bearing leather whips and cuffs, Dudard, perfectly disguised among them, slipped him a key. For a moment they made eye contact, and Dudard said “That was…astoundingly easy. He’s all tied up in there when you’re ready for him.” Vovk scoffed “It fucking better have been, I had to practically pour a king’s ransom of alcohol down his throat to get him right and drunk.” Dudard attempted to giggle, then cleared his throat and explained, “Otrov is around the corner at the door, by the way. He suspects nothing.” Vovk nodded and continued on, walking with an excessive swagger as he rounded the corner, seeing Otrov relaxed and talking to a woman outside of Shamus’ room. “Otrog!” Vovk called. “Otrog, Otrog…” the man looked over and smiled. “I think Stormcrow and I may have to switch roles in a second here, hahaha!” Vovk laughed loudly alongside the other man and put his arm around his shoulder, hanging loosely and drunkenly upon him “An excellent idea! But first, my friend…” Loose, relaxed muscles tightened like bars of iron, twisting the soldier back, exposing his torso as a razor sharp dagger in Vovk’s right hand plunged up and under his ribcage. Lungs. ''As the man flailed and struggled it carved its way under Otrov’s left arm, as he raised it to try to pry himself from Vovk’s chokehold. It found its way arcing down to the man’s side next. ''Possibly kidneys. ''Vovk punched it in hard and heard a gasp, and for good measure he slashed it in crimson streaks across the other man’s face and hands before dropping him to the ground. He chuckled and sheathed his dagger, producing the key that Dudard had given him. “Marissa, take care of this poor wretch. I have a much more important man to see to.” The wide eyed girl with black hair nodded mutely as Vovk strode smiling into the room where Shamus was kept. The large red haired man was in a cocoon of rope, with a pair of well-designed men’s underwear gagging his mouth. If looks could kill, the glance he shot Vovk would have wrapped its hands around his laughing neck and throttled him. “I’m sorry, Mister Stormcrow. But the tides have turned for me, as they do now for you.” He removed the gag. Immediately the other man let out a string of curses. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Vovk! Do you know what this will mean for your reputation! I swear I’m going to cut you from your cock to the crown of that ugly fucking head of yours!” Vovk grabbed the immobilized man by a handle placed conveniently upon his back, and carried him like an awkward, squirming luggage bag out the room. “Yes, this is not good for business, it’s true. But I’ve found religion now! I’ve seen the light of the Seven!” he laughed as Shamus cursed further, awkwardly moving him through the doorway. “You see, I have joined the illustrious Vix Agarra, and I’m thinking that I’d like to spice my life up a bit. ‘Vovk, Lord of Weapons, King of Whores, Bishop of Bloodshed,’ how does that sound?” “It sounds like you’ve lost your fucking mind you fucking prick! What the fuck did you do to Otrov!” Vovk rolled his eyes and mentally rebuked himself ''Otrov,'' that’s his fucking name…'' “He helped me release some of my inner demons just a moment ago. I imagine now he’s probably going to be fulfilling some shark’s inner fantasies. Good help is hard to find, I know, it’s a shame.” Shamus raged, and ranted, and squirmed. “You fucking hurt him I swear on all the fucking seven that I’ll feed you strip by strip to the gulls! I fucking swear it, Vovk!” Despite the madness of the day, it was not until later that night that Vovk felt a stir of anything other than anger in his heart. An emotion crept into him that he had not felt for years, not since he had earned his place as a lord of the seas. It came to him suddenly. He had mentioned during their supper to Botard that he thought it appropriate that a sacrifice be made to his new goddess, in celebration of their victory. Botard immediately agreed, showing animation for the first time since setting foot upon the Captain’s Choice early that day. Even then, his zealousness had been something that Vovk had expected. He had known that there had to be more to the quiet, obviously uncomfortable and disgusted “Head” of the Vix than he had been perceiving. Lifting a glass of wine to his lips, he had hoped to see a raise from the man when he drunk it back and roared that it would be a sacrifice of human life, and that he would make it himself with Shamus’ own ax. Instead, a light lit in the other man’s eyes, a feverous one as he declared that nothing less would be appropriate, and asked that he be given the honor of an executioner’s role. Vovk viewed Botard with a strange fascination for the rest of the meal, watching as he prayed quietly to himself after he ate, as he spoke with a horrible excitement about his love for the Seven. And that night, lit by the moon, and by torches, he handed the massive ax to Botard. And Botard lifted it high to the sky, looking upwards to the heavens. His voice rang loudly across the ship as he spoke “Men! Warriors! Pirates!” And an eerie silence descended then upon the ship, so that even the quiet lapping of waves against the hull seemed to disappear. “We…together, we have accomplished an incredible thing! We have dethroned the Laughing Skulls! Their leader sits now in the hull of this ship, waiting to be turned in for a bounty, and I say that that calls for celebrations!” He paused then, as men cheered. “I say we celebrate. We’ve earned it. And I say that our celebrations will not end! Because there will come a time when a greater celebration will be had. When the Gods call us, and when Unquala herself makes the blood through our veins crash like fire into our hearts! When the greatest rush, the greatest drug and the greatest thrill gives fucking ''life to us! The disrespectful Laughing Skulls are only the first to reap the blood and thunder of blasphemy. More will come. The godless, the unbelievers. The Hand of Men. And many more, and we will ''fucking butcher the enemies of the gods! Because we are chosen by death itself, and we will LOVE every life taken!” The ax arced down, severing the man’s head from his body, and Botard stood, laughing with the blood upon his face and the madness of the moon in his eyes, and it was then that Vovk felt it. For the first time in years, he felt anticipation. The trip to Port du Song was a short one. As Botard helped to unload their precious cargo, he was moderately impressed as Stormcrow’s last words to Vovk were “So I still get free whores for the rest of my life, right?” Vovk laughed and agreed, standing high upon the prow of his ship, a ring of large metal keys at his side and his fur coat billowing in the wind. He looked down upon his men, bearing dark Vix cloaks, trading upon the docks and he thought to himself What are a few whores to a ''King ''of the seas? Next Chapter The Beaten Path: Shamus Capture Part 2Category:Character lore